In the front window of Stairwell Gallery (504 Broadway, Providence) sit Leif Goldberg’s life-sized coyote-man marionette, which itself is operating a snake marionette, and some of Erin Rosenthal’s Garbage Dancers, little bird or tree rod puppets inside pulped-paper shells that she calls “primitive toys for modern times” and “worry dolls.” “Sound Beings,” the exhibition by the Providence couple and Fort Thunder alums (through April 3), is filled with magical, mystical rainbow-bright visions of and for a worried world.

In Goldberg’s paintings, drawings, and screenprints, a coyote-guy eats at a sushi bar, monster-men play video games in an arcade, and men in boats chase a giant white ox that is pooping a trail of red flame that is setting forests and villages afire. Goldberg’s drawing is sordid and his colors acid, which reinforces the sense of a world gone weird and warped.

Rosenthal’s work feels like an artist concentrating hard to find hope. Nesting Forms is a series of pulped paper nesting dolls in simple elemental shapes: a head, and inside a couple of seed bud-shaped things, and inside them yellow corn, and inside the corn, a bird. She also offers collages of her screenprints, with some additional painting, that depict seated figures, resembling meditating paper doll Buddhas, repeated in attractive alternating colors and kaleidoscoping mandala patterns. In Butterfly Chamber, a person runs out of a series of bubbles or pods that form a cave and touches one of the seated meditation guys, who emerges from a mandala. In that touch seems potential for transcendence.

Connecticut painter Barkley Hendricks won attention in the 1970s for his regal realist portraits of African-Americans painted like icons against flat, color-filled backgrounds. At the Ban¬nister Gallery at Rhode Island College (600 Mount Pleasant Avenue, Providence, through March 28), 20 oval and half-moon-shaped paintings, made between 1998 and 2004, are all landscapes of Jamaica, which Hendricks has been visiting for 25 years. The paintings depict lush, serene rolling mountains and valleys, sweeping vistas of turquoise waters and soft clouds, ocean breezes, cascading waterfalls. Occasionally storms threaten. The only signs of people are a couple houses and a few plowed fields. Hendricks’s brushwork is clumsy, but gold frames give the paintings an aristocratic air, and signify the importance he sees in these places.

Hendricks is African-American himself and some of his titles, like View from the Melon Patch, tease discomforting racial associations. The Alligator depicts a peninsula whose silhouette recalls an alligator, but the title may also reference racist slang for black children as “alligator bait.” “The roads and fields I find myself on and in have many stories to tell beyond my creative motivations and responses,” Hendricks writes in the catalogue to his retrospective exhibit now at Duke University’s Nasher Museum. The landscapes call to mind Caribbean islands’ history as stations of the American slave trade, but also later a locus of black liberty — a slave revolt in Haiti in the 1790s led to the establishment of the first independent black state in the Americas. But mostly these scenes feel like tropical vacation oases. Sit back (the gallery kindly provides a deck chair), grab a cool drink, and relax.

Potpourri In Carolee Schneemann's 1975 performance Interior Scroll, she stood naked and read about sexism from a three-foot-long strip of paper that she pulled out of her vagina.

Print the legend This exhibit offers an eye-popping, floor-to-ceiling survey of practically every poster produced to advertise under-the-radar Providence shenanigans from 1995 to 2005. Slideshow: Images from Wunderground

Well dressed It could be as simple as a power tie or stiletto heels, but what people wear conveys the first impression we get, subliminally or blatantly, about the kind of person they are.

RI’s mental-health system is unraveling More than 120 uninsured Rhode Islanders are waiting for mental health services at the Allen Berry Health and Dental Center on Prairie Avenue in Providence, according to one of its administrators.

Can’t anybody here play this game? The need to reinvent Rhode Island’s economic infrastructure — which remains anemic compared with most of its neighbors in New England — is more urgent than ever.